


Alternative Reunion

by Watson_to_my_Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Animated Gifs, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Gifset, Reunions, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 11:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watson_to_my_Holmes/pseuds/Watson_to_my_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Mofftiss always said that they believed John fainting in the books at Sherlock's reunion to be unrealistic in modern times, however, I disagree and so I address that here and ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.<br/>jk it is just an alternative reunion in which John does indeed faint and Sherlock ends up back at the Watson's home. ENJOY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it x

“If you’ll have me Mary…”

It was at this crucial point that a very lean waiter appeared. John thought ‘cheeky bastard I am trying to be smooth and now this tw’  
His mind was cut off. The man that stood in front of him was wearing a nostalgic smirk and a ridiculous Sharpie moustache. It all became a whizzing blur. By the time Mary realised the situation, John was angry. The angriest he had ever been in his entire life. His hands curled into fists and he hit the table so hard that the celebratory wine splashed all over the red and black tiles at their feet.

“You let me believe, for two years Sherlock, you let me grieve.”  
He heard nothing and felt everything. His stomach tied into a knot at his trachea and he couldn’t breathe. Could not hear, could not do anything other than fall.  
Fall.

Both Mary and Sherlock witnessed John’s eyelids falter and then his body crumpled. Every belief John had built and molded from the death of his friend, a man he unashamedly loved and had complete trust in, had been sucked into a black hole. No wonder he fainted.  
His legs lay beneath him and he was reduced to a pathetic sprawl. An undignified action that Sherlock knew he did not deserve.  
Sherlock in his complete isolation had apparently lost all cause and consequence of human, no John’s behaviour. This frightened him. Frightened him to the point where his mind went somewhere else, he was on a fast train that wasn’t stopping even though he was screaming to leave.

John, his John, the man all this was for, lay before him with a sad face and pained legs stretched beneath his cold form. His eyes were closed yet the disappointment could be seen plainly, for his face pointed towards the wall. Away from a living Sherlock, away from all of this. Sherlock thought that maybe unconsciousness would be better than this. He had regressed and now his miscalculations had seen him pay the price. He didn’t even notice when Mary’s fists connected with his rib cage. Nor did he notice when Mary was ripped away from him, or when the police were called and arrived.  
This reunion with Lestrade was not what he had planned. His intentions were to meet with him in private, something that Sherlock couldn’t consider with his excitement to see John again. He wanted to surprise and impress his only friend. He believed that John would be only joyful. Maybe Sherlock wasn’t human after all. Why could he not just be more like a gold fish? John had him believe that he had the potential, if not had become empathetic. It seems in the mutiny of loneliness he had lost it all. All that John had pieced together and shaped of him. Lost with that jump from St. Barts.

However, Lestrade stood before him. Hearing of a booking from a ‘mister John Watson’ being involved, Lestrade had to come. He had not heard from John in a while, but he always thought Sherlock would have been appreciative if he helped him out. Now he stood dumbstruck. Mouth gaping. Sherlock was now so unsure of what to do. This had all gone wrong. Greg didn’t disappoint him though. He did exactly what Sherlock thought John would do, Lestrade hugged him. With the words ‘you bastard’ it appeared that all was forgiven between them. John was more hurt by the whole affair it seems. Something Sherlock had realised arguably too late.


	2. The awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John awakes from his fainting at the restaurant and faces the apparently living Sherlock.

Mary had no pretense of allowing Sherlock into her and John’s house. How could she? After what he had done to her John. Or rather, their John. THEIR John. Mary told herself often that she wasn’t the first. Yet, a small part of Mary was rooting for Sherlock. After all the incredible adventure stories she had squeezed out her boyfriend, how could anyone not be curious. Besides the man successfully staged and faked his death for TWO years. He had to be worth something, some form of reconciliation. He was after all the reason as to why she met John, maybe she deserved to give John and him a chance.

John was still out cold; Lestrade carried John himself to the police car. Sherlock would have found it to be something funny to witness if the circumstances where the slightest different. His best friend being carried by Lestrade. Getting sat up in a mocked position. His head being propped up whilst Mary struggled to put a seat belt on him. No, not funny at all. (Actually it really is.)  
One thing that was resolutely funny however was the moustache. “Are you really going to keep that?” is what drove Mary over the edge. She too was not a massive fan of the moustache, but what a thing to say, after everything. Definitely deserved a punch or two.  
John was lying on the sofa looking slightly more content than earlier. If he was out much longer they should probably call for a doctor or something.

When Lestrade placed John on the sofa there was an awkward pause that was only made worse by words.  
“Erm right well, Sherlock do you think we should be leaving? I’ll drive you back to Baker Street not a problem, besides we have a lot to catch up on, well Mary if you need…”  
Before Lestrade could end and Sherlock could begin Mary interjected.  
“Actually, Lestrade, Greg, sorry, I think Sherlock should wait until John wakes up, erm, maybe they should give it a second go?”  
Lestrade looked, well actually delighted with the decision, and he swung his arms fervently just as a child would.  
Meanwhile, Sherlock’s face transitioned from shock to confused to calm and collected in a heart beat. Ten minutes ago she was trying to kill him why would she want to help. Sherlock did a quick series of deductions and besides a ‘secret tattoo’ and ‘liar’ he didn’t find much else. Liar. Liar. Lying about what? Maybe she wanted Lestrade to leave so she could try and kill him again. So be it, if that is the way he goes, he deserved to die in such a way. To be murdered by his best friends future wife in her own home, right well. At this Sherlock took a seat and didn’t bother to wave as Lestrade shuffled his way out as if a snail had found a shell that wasn’t quite big enough. So be it. Sherlock placed his hands in a connected steeple position under his chin. Although they were not there for long for as soon as the door shut John began to stir.

Mary knelt down beside Johns awakening ear.  
“John, sweetheart Sherlock is here.”  
His lazy stretch turned into a pounce. Just like that he was at Sherlock’s throat; he had run at Sherlock so hard that the force had taken both Sherlock and the armchair down. In a chokehold Sherlock gasped, “John please.”

Mary soon intervened with a worried set of hands and a “John come on now.” Very helpful Mary. Yet then John loosened his grip, and began to laugh. Properly laugh. Soon both he and Sherlock were lying side by side on their backs wailing with laughter. It seemed that they both were relieved. For different reasons. Sherlock was glad of the possibility that John didn’t want him dead and John was glad that Sherlock was definitely alive. He was still bloody angry with him. Basically pissed off. The cock. How could he ever think any of this was okay?

Once the laughter settled John turned on his side and stared at his breathing friend. There wasn’t even a mark on his head but John remembers the smell of the blood. On bad days he even tasted it in the air. There was so much of it. All over Sherlock’s brilliant head, his brain apparently made to mush on impact. Just the thought made his stomach twist.  
‘Why would he do that to me’ he thought. Now John was sad. His eyes rested on the floor and he shakily breathed, “Sherlock Holmes you are going to tell me everything.”  
“Quite right John.” Sherlock breathed in reply.  
With a weak smile John spoke whilst looking into the eyes of his resurrected friend.  
“Mary my love, this is going to take a while, put the kettle on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the tricky questions x


	3. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Mary and Sherlock sit down and John asks the necessary.  
> "I don't want to know how, I want to know why."

They sat in a tryst in the Watsons living room, there had been admittedly a lot of silence whilst the kettle boiled, and all appreciated the mug in their hands as it simply gave them permission to be distracted, instead of looking for one that did not exist. After one sip all three said “soooo” at the same time.  
The mouthed awkwardness made them all politely laugh.  
Laughter really was a cure. Tension seemed to be washed away with the sound waves.  
Sherlock began “John..”  
“Sherlock no listen to me okay, I am not sure of what I am about to hear, nor that I will necessarily like what I will hear and I know that you struggled, struggle, with how you phrase things, particularly sensitive subjects however I would appreciate it if you spoke with a, with an erm well controlled tongue and I mean I guess, what I want to say that I am glad you are here, irrevocably glad it has been a dream of mine, well I mean ever since you… ever since you.” John’s sigh reverberated around the room.

He rubbed his free hand with his contorted brow. Both Mary and Sherlock could tell that he was fighting the tears. Mary placed her free hand onto John’s knee, which he took kindly.  
Sherlock swallowed hard, he hadn’t thought so much as to the deliverance, the prevalence of his wording had never been very important to him. He reeled deductions and was inconsiderate with most. But not with John.  
Since the day he asked John ‘Afghanistan or Iraq?’ he had selected most of his words to tailor John. He implicated his language because for once he wanted someone to understand, he wanted more specifically John to understand. John needed to know what wove itself together in Sherlock’s head. They were partners. Literal partners that ran about London and solved crimes.  
John needed to get it. He was fast so he did. However this was delicate. Sherlock was not of the delicate sort. He could only dive in and hope he wouldn’t drown.

He took a deep breath and began “On the roof I realised that there were only a number of options, either I…”  
“No Sherlock, not how you survived, I don’t care about that I want to know why.”  
“Why? Well so I wouldn’t die obvio.. oh you mean that why.”

John shook his head gravely. Slow and painful. Clinical.  
In response Sherlock audibly swallowed once more, his mouth now dry.  
He couldn’t tell John the real reason. He wanted John to feel safe. He needed John to feel safe around him. If he told him of the sniper and the reason as to why it took two years worth of dismantling a large network all because a bullet may find itself between his eyes. No, no Sherlock couldn’t do that.  
“I was worried that, well I mean, people cannot know I am still alive.”  
“So you thought I would let the cat out of the bag?! One word Sherlock! That is all I would have needed! You are unbelievable! I visited your grave all the bloody time! I told your gravestone for you to please not be dead! I asked..”  
“I know John.”  
“you to.. what? What do you mean you know?”  
Sherlock’s toes wriggled in his shoes. He watched them through the leather as the words pulled from his gums.  
“I was there.”  
“What? Sherlock you could have..”

It was at this point that John broke down. The fact that Sherlock was in arms reach the entire time made the entire ordeal worse. He could have been behind him in a queue somewhere and never even noticed all because he hadn’t turned around. He felt betrayed and deeply uninvolved. Tears rolled down his angry cheeks.  
“Who knew?”  
“John no one I swear.”  
“Sherlock you are lying to me! You couldn’t have pulled that off by yourself! Not even you! Who knew?!”  
“Mycroft.”  
“And?”  
“Molly.”  
“Molly! Molly Hooper knew over me! Over me Sherlock?! Who else then go on? Speak up!”  
“Only a few people from my homeless network, it would not have worked without any of them, or Molly, or Mycroft, they all had to be a part of it.”  
“Why couldn’t I have been? Even if I didn’t play a role, even if you just, FUCK.”

John was now becoming so agitated that he simply had to pace. He wasn’t getting enough air. He walked with his mug from one wall to the next until he had no choice but to face Sherlock.  
“Mary can you come and take my mug please.”  
Without even questioning Mary came and took the mug from her John’s hands. She sat back down and placed her and John’s mugs side by side on the side table, preparing herself to break up a fight. This was more than likely as John was in his ‘Captain’ stance. Feet wide, Shoulders back, arms to the side and chin up.

“Sherlock I don’t understand and I may never quite get it, however you are back now and I need you to stand up.” Sherlock looked like a child getting told off at school. He too placed his mug on a table and ever so slowly stood, his eyes never quite looking at John. He was also bracing himself for a kicking.

John walked towards Sherlock at a pace and hugged the daft sod. Sherlock, never exactly used to hugging just sort of patted John on the back. Mary had relieved written all over her face. ‘Thank god for that’ she thought.  
Once the brief hug ended John went and gave his unofficial Mrs. a quick kiss before saying with a big grin “Sherlock do you still not eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DINNER?  
> <3


	4. Forgiven?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary worries that she shall be discovered and John and Sherlock simply want some time alone.

“Since you ask Dr. Watson I actually am rather hungry.”  
“Sherlock Holmes, hungry?!”  
Sherlock and John shared a mutual laugh, and Mary felt a pang of jealousy at the fact that she was not aware of the private joke. So much so that maybe she should leave them alone. What if Sherlock figured out who she was? Who she really was? Potentially she should be as far out of Sherlock’s life as possible. A wave of panic hit her.  
She unwove herself from under John’s arm. Her action was accompanied with the words “maybe you boys should go out for dinner.”  
Confusion hit John’s face, his brows knitted together. “Won’t you come?”

Sherlock stayed out of it. After all this was not his home. This was not quite his John as it was two years ago either. He shuffled his feet anxiously. If he were completely honest with himself he would prefer to have some private time with John. The self-admission made his eyes cast to the floor.

Mary kept her face calm and she yawned for affect. “John, honestly you have just got your friend back from the dead, be guilty for once. Go out with your friend.”  
John gave Sherlock a questioning look, almost as if he was saying ‘you up for it?’  
Sherlock gave a modest nod followed by a comforting smile.  
John feeling suddenly confident gave a wide grin and a definitive “Right!” whilst rubbing his hands together.

They both still had their coats on so there was no need for faffing around. They walked straight to the door and Sherlock left the residence first with a sudden spring in his step. John was his friend again. That is all that mattered. Maybe they could solve another mystery before the night was over. After all Lestrade knew he lived now so maybe he would ring with a case. John was a little more hesitant, and anger still sat at the pit of his stomach. To almost give himself the potential for an excuse he faced Mary in the doorway “Are you sure?” Mary simply nodded and gave his face a small pinch; “Yes husband I am.”  
“Did you just say yes?”  
“Maybe.”

John started to laugh then, really laugh. He was hit with relief. He was going to get married and his friend was alive. In fact Sherlock could be his best man! That is something he couldn’t consider until thirty minutes ago. Sherlock bloody Holmes. Only he could return from the dead. John always had a teeny amount of hope. It was large at first, for example at the funeral he was resolute in his belief that Sherlock would jump out from behind a tree by the church and expect everyone to laugh. When he didn’t John covered it up with maybe tomorrow. John would find himself buying necessities at the supermarket expecting Sherlock to put Jam in John’s cart when he wasn’t looking, even if he didn’t reveal himself this would let John know that Sherlock was okay. That is all he would have needed.  
However as the months rolled on his certainty in his best friends return wavered. After around a year the doubt positioned itself and around two months ago the acceptance of death overpowered anything else, but hope stood firm and it seems the underdog belief was correct, John always had followed his gut. Once again it did not fail him. He did wish it were sooner. Two years is a long time.

He kissed his wife good-bye and followed his friend. Mary watched them walk down the street like two skipping schoolboys.  
By the time they reached the end of the street Mary closed the door and tried to busy herself until she was exhausted enough to sleep.  
Once they reached the main road Sherlock turned to his short friend and mockingly said, “I think you might have had a growth spurt Watson.”  
John began howling with laughter. The nerve of man honestly.

When he calmed down he faced Sherlock and said as serious as he could muster “I am glad you are back Sherlock.”  
“Glad to be back. Actually, beyond glad to be back. I have some stories to tell you.”  
“I bet, but do you mind if we save them for when I actually believe this isn’t a dream?”  
“Of course, but I do promise you John that you have not gone insane and I am one-hundred-percent here.”  
“Right, yes, well, that is good. Good! Where would you like to eat then?”  
“Is Angelo’s still open?”  
“Ya’ know I have no idea.”  
“Shall we find out?”  
“Yes.”

With that the two men turned at the same time and headed for Angelo’s in the hope that the place still remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you would like me to write more! Thank you, check out my other works, Johnlock AU.  
> Ly x

**Author's Note:**

> LET'S GO HOME>>>>>>


End file.
